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The Hostile Brothers
by
Sometimes, in riding out on these excursions, or in coming home, he would pass his brother breaking stones on the road. He would look at him half in pity and half in contempt, saying to himself, “This poor devil works from morning to night for fifteen creutzers; and, if I have any luck, I clear fifteen florins.”
Conrad, seeing a little of these thoughts in spite of his nearsightedness, would strike the stones until a thousand splinters flew on every side.
We shall see hereafter whether Mike or Conrad did better in the end.
Mike was what is called “good company.” He could tell stories day and night, knew a thousand tricks, and was acquainted, as the German proverb has it, with God and the world. Not that his acquaintance with God was very intimate,–though he went to church now and then, as no one in the country can avoid doing; but he went, like many others, without thinking much about what he heard there, or endeavoring to act accordingly.
Conrad also had his faults, among which perhaps the greatest was his hatred of his brother and the manner in which he expressed it. When asked, “How’s Mike comin’ on?” he would answer, “He’ll come to this some day,” passing his hands under his chin as if to tie a knot, and then lifting them up and stretching out his tongue. Of course people were not chary in putting the question; and, whenever the standing answer came, it was the signal for peals of merriment. In other ways, also, people would try to keep the hatred of the brothers at the boiling-point, not so much from malice as for fun. Mike never did more than shrug his shoulders contemptuously when the “poor devil” was mentioned.
They never remained in the same room. When they met at the inn, or at their sister’s, one of them always went away. No one ever thought of making peace between them; and whenever people lived at daggers’ points it became proverbial to say, “They live like Mike and Conrad.”
When they met at home they never spoke a word, nor even looked at each other. Yet, when one perceived that the other was lying ill in bed, he would go all the way to their sister’s, who lived away off in Frog Alley, and say, “Go up: I guess he’s poorly:” and then he would make as little noise as possible while he worked, so as not to disturb the other.
Out of doors, however, and among the neighbors, they kept up their feud without blinking; and no one would have thought of finding a spark of brotherly love in their hearts.
This had now lasted wellnigh fourteen years. Mike, with his traffic and dickering, had let the money received for his two acres slip through his fingers,–he scarce knew how. Conrad, on the contrary, had bought another field from an emigrant, and very nearly paid for it. Mike did a commission-business, and thought of selling another field to set himself afloat again.
“Now, there arose up a new king over Egypt,” is a verse of which the people of the village might have made a peculiar application. The old parson was dead. He was a good man, but let things go their own way. The new parson was a young man of great zeal. He was bent upon righting all things, and did accomplish a great deal, until at last he got into a declared connection with Lisa, the Lamb Innkeeper’s daughter; after which he ceased to meddle with people’s private affairs,–for then he might have been told to sweep at his own door. But as yet he was in the full tide of reform.
One Sunday afternoon, when church was over, people sat about on the lumber brought for the new engine-house which was to be built near the town-house well. Mike was there too, sitting with his elbows on his knees and chewing a straw. Peter, Shackerle’s John’s boy, who was only five years old, was passing. Somebody cried, “Peter, I’ll give you a handful of nuts if you’ll do like Conrad: how does Conrad do?” The child shook his head, and was going on, for he was afraid of Mike; but they held him fast, and teased him till at last he did the tying of the knot, the pulling up, and the stretching out of the tongue. The shouts of laughter could have been heard through half the village. The boy called for his nuts, but the contractor was found unable to furnish them; so Peter kicked at him,–which made them all laugh again.